Around the Carousel

This is the first instalment in a recollection of memories. Before I even discovered Tucker Max or the erotic and deeply personal book by an unknown sex columnist I had long decided that I needed to immortalize the person I had become by reaching back into the depths of my mind and pulling out (most of… or maybe just lots of) the men that had ever entered my life. The lovers, the friends, the heartbreaks and the conquests. It was through all these various relationships where solidified, confident me was formed. I have to pay tribute to all these men. How could I not?
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Chapters:

"Okay, I think I've got everyone's money. Are you finally going
to book the place today?" Patrick asked me in between second and
third period.

"Yeah for sure," I replied as I tried to stuff my running shoes
into our large, shared locker. "Can you grab that bag up there
please? I'm struggling here."

Patrick snickered as he easily reached the bag on our top shelf.
"I don't know why you keep throwing things up there when you
can't reach them."

"Well in my dress shoes it's no problem, but as you can see I'm
kinda barefoot at the moment."

"You mean your ridiculous Spice Girl platform shoes?" Another
snicker. "Whatever. Just book it and give me the details ASAP."

"Yes, sir!" I saluted to Patrick. "Stop worrying already. All
week you ask me the same question every day. No one else will
book that place, I promise you."

"Emma, only I tell people not to worry. Your job is just
to get it done," Patrick responded with a familiar smile
spreading across his face as he walked away, knowing his black
and white statements always pushed a button of mine.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head in annoyance but secretly
smiled as my wavy, auburn hair fell over my face.

Patrick was the first friend I ever made in high school. Back in
1999 we met in homeroom as his surname followed mine on the
alphabetical list. This meant we were assigned lockers side by
side and for the first few months I thought I would kill him.

Grade 9's got the third floor lockers which were so skinny that
you could barely fit two textbooks side by side within them. When
you opened them all the way, the door completely covered the
locker to the right of them. You always hoped you'd get a
courteous locker neighbour. Day after day, Patrick would wait for
an opportune moment to annoy the heck out of me. He was one of
the hundreds of kids that was bussed to and from school which he
used to his advantage at the end of each day.

"Patrick! What the hell!" I would yell at him as he flung his
locker door open.

"That doesn't mean you need to open your locker door all the
way. You can still get your shit out without blocking mine!"

"You walk home. You can leave at any time. I need to get out of
here now."

"Just because I walk home doesn't mean I have to wait around for
you to finish whatever you're doing!" I would spit back
whilst trying to pry his locker door away from mine, always to no
avail against his lanky forearm that held the door firmly in
place.

He's totally got Only-Child Syndrome, I remember
thinking during our daily squabbles. While fourteen-year-old me
tried to hate him, I couldn't deny I was loving this sort of new
attention. My closest friends from elementary school (who were
mostly male) always made me feel like one of the guys and nothing
more, which was totally cool. I knew my place with them. Patrick,
however, teased me like a little sister but was also interested
in spending lots of time with just me which left me wondering if
this was how real boyfriend-girlfriend relationships started. He
was the strong and silent type which always left me questioning
some of his actions but I knew we shared a special connection.
Even if we didn't quite know how to define it.

Here we were, four years later, still just friends and nothing
more. I think this bothered our friends more than it bothered us.
We had developed a tight knit group that constantly teased our
bickering ways and asked when the hell we were just going to
start dating already. We always brushed off the notion because
that sort of chemistry just wasn't there. Graduation was less
than a month away and I was sure if anything was going to happen,
it would have damn well happened already.

I made it to my third period World Studies class just as Mr.
Bortello was closing the door. I scurried over to my desk next to
Andrew and tucked my kilt under my legs as I sat down quickly. He
gave me a smile and waited until Mr. Bortello had allowed us to
partner up for an assignment to begin talking about something
that had nothing to do with the assignment whatsoever.

"I hear everyone's put in for the deposit. Is the cottage booked
yet?

"I was literally just talking about this with Patrick," I
responded while pretending to go over Andrew's notes, "and I'll
book the place tonight just so people can stop asking me."

"Sorry," he said through a short laugh, "I just didn't think it
was going to happen. For sure thought some people would back out
once they had to come up with the money."

"I know, I seriously can't believe we're going to have twenty
people staying in this cottage. Who needs to follow the ginos to
Wasaga Beach when you can get a place like this after prom? Best
idea ever."

"Until something breaks,"Andrew stated. "Are you sure you want to
put this place on your credit card?"

We eventually completed our joint assignment and used the rest of
class time to "work on our other studies" which is code for
gossip or do as little of anything as possible. Andrew and I
continued talking about who we thought would be pairing up at the
cottage, who would go in who's car, who might hook up… The bell
sounded and I was off to enjoy my spare by heading home early. I
headed back to my locker and took my time sorting my things out.
I left a note for Patrick to call me later so we could discuss
the final details of the cottage and was immediately left
thinking about how big the beds were, how they were arranged in
the room, and what I should bring to sleep in if Patrick and I
were going to share a bed.